


The hound of Baker Street

by leahhamishHolmes221B



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dog - Freeform, F/M, M/M, Magic, Other, Survival, darkmagic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-03-23 15:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3773479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leahhamishHolmes221B/pseuds/leahhamishHolmes221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Lestrade is such an idiot......IT'S ONLY A 3 !not worth my time, now my toe experiment is useless." Sherlock fumed to himself and to any passer bys. Sherlock stuffed his hands in the deep pockets of his beloved Belstaff coat. He was crossing the road, when he saw a car flying around the corner barrelling towards him. Something yellow flashed by and knocked him out of the way. Sherlock looked up at the golden Labrador sitting on his chest with dark blue eyes.</p><p>    What will happen when the dog starts following Sherlock and Sherlock can't help getting attached. Sherlock is a self acclaimed high functioning sociopath he doesn't feel ......but is he?  A darkness is looming over Baker Street in the shape of the dreaded Moriarty, will Sherlock be able to solve his puzzle in time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A study in Bark

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, thanks for reading! please comment or give kudos but please especially tell me if there is any spelling or grammar errors  
> Thanks XD
> 
> This story is also featured on watt pad.......

"Lestrade is such an idiot...... IT'S ONLY A 3! not worth my time, now my toe experiment is useless." Sherlock fumed to himself and to any passer bys.   
He was heading to Barts, hoping Molly would provide fresh toes to restart his experiment. He was testing to see if toes decompose faster then let's say fingers and if the smell of the toes have a different affect on the wildlife where the body is found. It could solve hundreds of murders but it just seemed like a disgusting hobby to Ms. Hudson.

She had been nagging at him non stop to find a flatmate. He hated the idea but did try a few candidates, it did not end well since most of them either ran out the flat calling Sherlock a Psychopath or crying from his hurtful deductions. The only one that lasted the longest was Victor Trevor, Sherlock enjoyed his company until the day Victor decided to take Mycroft's proposition and spy on him for money. 

Than the man had the nerve to lie to him about it ,after Sherlock confronted him. Sherlock gave him a day to move out. Taking money wasn't the reason why Sherlock kicked him out, i mean they could have just split the money and continue the charade.

But Victor insulted his intelligence by trying to lie to him, the moron. Sherlock rather he lived alone, he was a high functioning Sociopath he doesn't need anyone. Normal people would have been lonely inside the big flat and hurt after some of the comments people throw at him, but he was Sherlock Holmes he didn't care. 

Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock He remembered when his brother gave him that piece of advice. Sherlock hated to admit it but his brother was right, all the other goldfish can be swayed into anything if they care for the other person. Molly Hooper is an excellent example of this.

Sherlock shouldn't be allowed access into the morgue and should defiantly not allowed take body parts home with him. But with the right head tilt or looking at her from under his eyelashes she'd let him do anything if it made him happy. Molly was obviously attracted to him, he deduced that the moment Mike Stamford introduced the two. 

Sherlock could easily break into the Morgue and do what he wanted anyway but it was less hassle to just ask Molly. Molly was shy and timid and let Sherlock dominate her easily, it was child's play really.

Lestrade would short of be in the same boat as Molly and let Sherlock manipulate him into getting away with taking home evidence. Unlike Molly though Lestrade needed him desperately to solve cases. A job Sherlock was happy to do, he needed some sort of distraction ,drugs used to be the main one but he traded it for murder.

Though Lestrade likes to think every murder would hold some interest to Sherlock, he was wrong. The case today was transparent, so easy in fact Sherlock believed that even Anderson would have figured it out. It was just a robbery gone wrong nothing else. Oh how Sherlock wished it was anything else. 

Sherlock stuffed his hands in the deep pockets of his beloved blue Balstaff coat. His dark curls being ruffled by the wind. His quick silver eyes darting up and down the road. He was crossing the road, when he saw a car barrelling towards him. He didn't have any time to react.

Something yellow flashed by and knocked him out of the way. he landed hard on his back, a gasp of pain escaped through his lips. Sherlock looked up at the golden Labrador sitting on his chest with dark blue eyes. 

Sherlock stared at the dog for a while than roughly pushed it off him. He struggled to his feet and brushed the dirt from his suit and coat.   
The dog sat in front of him looking at him as though concerned. Sherlock took one look at the dog than stalked off pulling the coat tighter around him. The dog sat there, watching him turn the corner before it painfully got on it's feet again and trotting after him.  
It limped as it walked it's shoulder badly injured. The clanging of dog tags from around it's neck was the only sound the Labrador made.


	2. Sherlock's second shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet someone very familiar......

"Molly" Sherlock drawled as he entered the morgue. 

Molly jumped as he walked in behind her.

"oh...er hi, Sherlock" she stuttered nervously, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Sherlock's eyes zoomed into the motion. Unconsciously drawing attention to her new hair style, trying to impress someone, also new bright red lipstick to make her lips appear fuller he deduced. 

She turned around to put the files on the table. Sherlock stood right behind her,his chest against her back, his breath tickling her neck.

"I was wondering if you could assist me with a case" his voice soft, Molly could feel the rumble in his chest as he spoke.

Molly felt the blush rising from her neck as she turned back around to him slowly, her eyes focused on the floor. 

"y-es?" she asked still afraid to look at the eyes boring into hers. 

Sherlock smiled, she was wrapped around his finger. 

"I need fresh samples of toes, please Molly" he said, flashing her a sly smile.

"oh umm ok" she breathed, before heading to the wall of freezers and sliding out bodies. She found one of an old homeless man with no friends or family, nobody would notice his missing toes ,she hoped. she removed them and placed the toes in a plastic bag. She handed them to Sherlock.

"There you go.... um i was wondering........ if you liked to have coffee?" she asked.

"Black, two sugars,please. I'll be upstairs."

He turned and headed up the stairs to the labs. He opened the door to the lab and was relieved to find it empty, he placed the toes on the table beside the microscope.

He pulled off his scarf in one smooth flourish and stuffed it in his pocket. He swung the heavy wool coat off of him and carefully placed it on the back of his chair. He walked around in the lab gathering supplies he needed to start experimenting.

He pulled on latex gloves and carefully removed a toe from the bag, he placed it in the Petri dish. He pulled the diluted beaker of acid towards him and with a pipette he sucked up a few drops.

He was releasing the first drop when the door opened revealing the large Mike Stamford walking in. Sherlock took a split second to notice that Mike was not alone, behind walked the same golden Labrador from earlier.

Sherlock ignored them and returned to his experiment, precisely dropping the liquid on the toe making it hiss. 

"Hello Sherlock" Mike greeted him. Sherlock nodded in acknowledgement eyes focused on the experiment. 

"So Sherlock, does he belong to you?" Mike asked pointing at the Labrador. The Dog sat quietly staring at Sherlock's working figure.

"hmmm?" Sherlock said finally looking up.

"The dog... is he yours" Mike asked again.

"No, but...." Sherlock took a closer look at the dog "The Dog's owner is an army doctor going by the dog tags around its neck and the rank clearly printed on it.The blood on the dog tags obscure the name, it's a lot of blood more than what the dog could have produced by it's own injury." Sherlock pointed the the left shoulder of the dog where the wound is clearly visible.

"So either it's owner is badly injured or has died due to his wounds. I say dead more likely as the dog's been living on the street for some time, from it's loss of weight. But it couldn't have been for very long as his coat is still well kept. The dog has a bullet wound in it's left shoulder, perhaps he was shot on a farm. But it's more likely the dog was shot trying to get his owner to safety ,when the soldier was injured. Now it's unlikely the dog would be with the owner when he was shot but once you rule out the impossible whatever remains however improbable must be true." 

Mike stood gob smacked as Sherlock rose from his chair and squatted in front of the dog. He carefully lifted the dog tags and wiped the blood away. It read Captain John . H . Watson MD.

The dog suddenly lent forward and gave a big lick to Sherlock's cheek. Sherlock leapt to his feet and wiped the saliva from his cheek a disgusted expression on his face. The dog huffed as if he was chuckling, it's tongue lolling out of it's mouth. 

"John H Watson is the dog's owner, find him" Sherlock told a silently chuckling Mike. Sherlock returned to his experiments and finished it off quickly and writing his findings in his small notebook.

He put on his coat and scarf. Me bade goodbye to Mike, who was running a blood analyses on a patient. Sherlock cast a look at the dog, a sour expression on his face. Sherlock walked out off the hospital and decided to walk home that day. When Sherlock had walked out of the lab what he didn't realize was that the dog slipped by and is slowly following him down the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so does anyone have any theory's?


	3. Trouble in the alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has lot's of enemies....

Sherlock had walked for about 20 seconds before he noticed the dog following him. He growled with annoyance and effortlessly weaved in and out of people walking by.

He took many sharp lefts and a few back alleys trying to get rid of the silent dog. He managed to loss the dog after about the fifth detour, he let a smug smile grace his lips and walked on. His presence dominating and to be noticed. 

He was making his way down a back alley, it was dusk the sky starting to darken. He saw a large man block the exit of the alley, his dark eyes fixed on the consulting detective.

Sherlock didn't even have to bothering turning around, aware that there is another man behind him. The man before him cast a quick glance at his accomplice behind Sherlock, giving the detective all the information he needed. 

Sherlock's eyes flitted over the man before him. Rough hands, shows the man does something in labour also his physic proves that point. Eyes are bloodshot and red.  
The skin around his nose is inflamed and he twitches uncontrollably, an addict than.

The man was standing in front of him at an angle, seemed to favour his right side. Also the toes of his right shoe has been scuffed more than the left, proving he uses the right more. Why? perhaps a knee injury as he winces when he shifts his weight and his hand momentarily twitches towards his knee. His coat does not fall as it should have down but was more rumpled at the back, concealing a weapon.

At this distance Sherlock wasn't sure which one. Something about the man seemed familiar and he quickly went into his mind palace to search. Sherlock's lips almost twitched with a hint of a grin. He knew the man so to speak, it was a few cases ago.

He had successfully solved a vicious triple murder that unknowingly led to the dismantlement of a drug ring. Arron coin was his name, he was only a follower not the mastermind of the operation, only the brawn not the brains. 

"Oh, Mr.Coin, it's so nice to see you" Sherlock said sarcastically, he stepped closer to Arron and turned to the side so he could see both men.

"And Mr.Gregson of course " he said to the man, he was tall not as physically strong as Arron Coin but he had the brains and knowledge to take care of himself in a fight.  
"what do I owe the pleasure?" Sherlock asked ,a tight lipped smile on his face. He stood tall and proud not in the least intimated by the two men.

Gregson sneered "you think your the best , a posh git like you but we're going to teach you a lesson." Gregson smiled evilly revealing the knife he was hiding and the other man produced a lead pipe from the back of his trousers.

Knew it Sherlock thought when he saw the metal instrument. Sherlock rolled his eyes at the cliché chose of words.

"Oh I doubt that" Sherlock responded with confidence. As fast as a snake he attacked, he made Coin double over with a well placed kick to the abdomen and turned towards Gregson. He jumped towards him, his hand wrapping around the other man's wrist making sure he couldn't use the knife he was wielding.

His fist connected to Gregson's nose and it produced a sicking crack. Gregson groaned as blood started dripping from his nose. Gregson kneed him in the groin and Sherlock felt all the oxygen leave his lungs. He staggered back from the man who was trying to wipe off the worst of his bleed. Gregson came at him again slashing wildly with his knife.

Sherlock grabbed him and the two wrestled for control. Sherlock saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He managed to jerk his head just a fraction, missing a blow that would have killed him. Yet he couldn't move fast enough to avoid some of the blow. 

He dropped like a sack of bricks on the ground.

He was dizzy and disoriented, he reached up and felt blood leaking from the wound. He saw the two of them approach and he sluggishly got to his feet. He managed to trip Coin with the last of his strength and saw him hit his head on the cement and fall into unconsciousness.

But he left himself defenceless as he watched Gregson,lift the knife and cut a shallow wound into Sherlock's stomach. He groaned and fell to his knees were Gregson started kicking him. He gasped as he felt one of his ribs break from the onslaught. He was suddenly lifted of the ground and found himself slammed in the alley wall. Gregson held him by the throat with one hand and with the other pointed the knife to his neck.

"How does it feel?" he man sneered with triumph "That I was the one to kill you"

Sherlock tried desperately to loosen the grip from around his throat but found it useless, his strength already slipping away. Gregson pushed the knife in and made Sherlock's neck start to bleed. He laughed but stopped when he heard a menacing growl coming towards them. 

Sherlock felt the grip loosen and he slid to the ground in a heap. The dog had leapt at Gregson, his teeth sunk deeply in the flesh of the man's wrist. Forcing him to drop the knife.

Gregson managed to get the monstrous animal off him and stared vacantly at what was left of his arm. The dog stood between him and Sherlock, the knife also behind him. The dog growled at him showing his teeth, his muzzle and teeth were stained red with blood. The once harmless looking dog looked like something out of hell as he stared at the criminal. The fur on it's shoulders bristled and it's eyes flashed with danger. Gregson carefully backed away from the animal towards his unconscious associate on the ground.

He knelt down and grabbed him and started dragging him towards the exit of the alley. He cast one more hate filled glance to the consulting detective and left the alley.

The dog ceased his growling as soon as the pair disappeared and turned towards the heap on the ground. He walked towards Sherlock slowly ,afraid of startling the disorientated man.

The dog nudged his head against the curly haired one and whined wanted to make sure he was OK. Sherlock looked at the dog through bleary vision, the world still swimming. He placed his hand on the dog's back and grabbed at his fur.

The dog didn't complain and kept his steady gaze on him, concern evident. Sherlock closed his eyes and let his head fall onto the dog's side, trying to contain the nausea that suddenly came over him.

He barley noticed the dog sitting beside him, he slowly fell into unconsciousness, his head still leaning on the dog. When he felt the detective's grip slacken the dog lay down beside the man, trying to protect him from the light drizzle that started.

He lay awake all night keeping a protective watch over the curly haired man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please please like or leave a comment


	4. Author's note

Sorry won't be updating till at least after next week, as i have exams!!!  
(exams are over so continue to next chapter) L


	5. A New flatmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brother dearest......

Sherlock would have loved to say that he had a peaceful slumber but that wasn't the case. It felt like it was every five seconds that a rough, wet tongue tickled his cheek. 

He'd crack open his sore eyes and look at the dog lying beside him before falling asleep again. 

It was mid afternoon when he woke for good, he judged this by the glaring sun beaming down on him. Typical England, rains when you wish it wasn't and sun is splitting the rocks when you'd rather make a cocoon of blankets and stay inside. 

Sherlock groaned as he peeled his head from the dog's warm side, the fur sticking to the dried blood that ran down the side of his face. 

His vision blurred as he lifted his head up, it cleared slowly as his eyes adjusted to the light. He gingerly lifted a hand to his head, fortunately it had stopped bleeding. He slowly got to his feet, his legs like jelly.

The Labrador stood as well moving closer to the man, afraid he was going to fall over. Sherlock ignored him and concentrated on getting out of the alley. He stumbled as he tried to walk, his hands desperately clutching the wall beside him.

By the time he had reached the opening of the alley he was walking unassisted by the wall. 

The Lab stuck by his side offering support if needed. The streets were busy, lots of people milling around and some too busy to notice the injured man. Some stopped and looked concerned but they decided against helping and walked on. 

The Lab was watching them and was slowly started to get agitated by the lack of help. The fur on his shoulders started to bristle and a low growl escaped when another passer by just walked on. 

Sherlock glanced down at the noise a confused expression on his face. He stored the odd behaviour for later examination, he was just too exhausted to start now.   
He hated to admit it but he let a sigh of relief escape his lips when one of his brother's shiny black cars pulled up beside him. 

Sherlock fumbled with the handle of the door, his hands shaking from exhausting and flopped into the car. The dog bounded after him quickly before the door was shut on him. 

Sherlock was glad to see nobody in the car except Anthea (her name for the time being). He couldn't handle seeing the smug look on his brother's face if he was accompanying him. 

Anthea barely glanced up at him from her phone and sent a quick text to Mycroft ,telling him of Sherlock's condition.   
Sherlock leant his head on the cool glass of the window and shut his eyes. 

The Lab sat on the seat beside him, he was calmer than on the street but the dog was still tense. He eyed the woman opposite them with interest, she caught him looking and gave a firm scratch behind the ear.

The cab came to a stop in front of a black door with a brass knocker. The numbers 221B labelled. 

Sherlock got out of the car before Anthea could even try to help him and rummaged in his pocket for the keys. Anthea opened her door to let the golden Lab out of the car. 

The Lab walked up to the curly haired man and nipped playfully at his leg, like he was giving out to Sherlock for leaving him in the car. 

Sherlock didn't notice and let himself into the flat. he avoided the creaky steps on the stairs not wanting to disturb Ms. Hudson. 

He didn't need her to be a mother hen and she would be fussing if she saw him in this state. The dog followed quietly getting the hint of silence. 

Sherlock opened the door to his flat, satisfied that everything was in it's proper place.   
The dog teared off in front of him still limping badly to investigate the flat. Sherlock headed to the couch and was about to collapse gracefully as he always did when he felt his sleeve being tugged.

He glanced down at the yellow being that had a mouthful of Sherlock's coat sleeve. Sherlock irritably yanked his arm from out of his mouth but almost tripped when the dog started head butting the back of his legs. 

The dog than started tugging at his sleeve than pushing and inch by inch the detective was slowly going across the room.   
Sherlock tried to push the dog away, snap horrible things at him but the animal ignored him. 

The dog steered Sherlock into his bedroom and carefully gave one more push for the consulting detective to go sprawled on the bed. 

The Lab left him there and exited out of the room he came back a few minutes later with a medical kit in he's mouth. 

Sherlock had fallen asleep, the dog jumped on the bed and licked the man's face. 

When said man opened his eyes the dog pushed the kit towards him and let out a loud whine. 

Sherlock was to tried to fight but did take this new evidence of how intelligent the dog was and add it to the file.

He cleaned and bandaged his wounds before flinging the rest of the kit off his bed and resuming his unconscious state on top of the duvet. 

The dog carefully dragged the duvet over the man making sure not to wake him before lying down at the foot of the bed. The dog watched the man sleep.   
The man smelled like smoke, iron, mix of different chemicals like in a hospital and that hint of blood that signalled to the dog danger. 

He knew as soon as he saved the man from the car that the man was dangerous and he attracted danger. 

But the Lab couldn't resist, he found the man so intriguing and brilliant and mad (he saw the human eyes in the microwave)he had to follow him. Before he got himself killed.

The dog fell asleep and the flat was silent.

This is the start of something special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading so astonished of the amount of reads and kudos so thank you and please leave more and i'll try and update as soon as possible


	6. unanswered questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sherlock recovers................

The light streamed in through the bedroom window. Creating a warm glow over the room.

Sherlock woke slowly, lazing in his bed. He sat up and blinked, he glanced at the dog still fast asleep at the foot of his bed, not surprised in the slightest to find it there.

He carefully climbed put of the bed making sure not to wake the Lab. His brain must have been sluggish as he only stopped to ponder his actions when he had reached the door of the bathroom. 

He was confused by his kindness towards the dog upon wakening, he shrugged and deleted the action. 

He dismissed it, he had always had a soft spot for dogs after.....after Redbeard he thought. He still had the pounding in his temple, he went into the bathroom and took some painkillers.

He stared at his reflection for a few moments, pondering what lie he could tell Lestrade for his injury's.

But he also gave up the idea, though he hated to admit it but Lestrade was not a fool and could see the difference between an accident and a beating. 

He unwound the bandage from his head and the paper stitches.

He stripped ,taking care of his ribs when shrugging off his dress shirt. He let out a sigh when he stepped into the warm spray and let his himself wander in his mind palace. 

He walked down the white hall , occasionally stopping at a particular door before moving on if it held no interest. He stopped at the newest looking door, the one he had created the previous day. 

He stepped inside. The room was vacant only a white painted room with paper flying around. He grabbed the nearest one. It was a brief summary of the dog's actions the night before. 

This truly interested Sherlock, the dog has shown some amazing intelligence. Even the way the dog portrays some of it's emotion, it was almost like a human would? Sherlock looked at the limited information and knew he needed more before coming up with a conclusion. Maybe some blood sample? Put the dog in an unfamiliar environment and see how he reacts?

Sherlock was brought back from his train of thought when he felt the water turn icy. He quickly got out and dried his hair the best he could with a towel before tying the towel around his waist.

He made his way to the bedroom. 

He spotted the Lab still on the bed looking groggily at him. Sherlock added that to the list, since when do dogs look groggy? Sherlock went to his wardrobe and picked a suit and laid it on the bed, he than tried to pick a suitable dress shirt. 

His fingers briefly stopped on the purple one before moving on, nobody to impress that day. He decided for the white as it isn't as impressionable as the black or as attractive as the purple it was just the right blend of both. 

He quickly dressed, not caring that the Lab was fully alert and was oogling his naked form. The dog stared for a few moment before violently turned his head to face the wall. 

Sherlock chuckled as he buttoned up his cuffs. He applied new stitches to the cuts on his face and moved into the sitting room. 

The Lab following cautiously. 

Sherlock picked up his beautiful violin from his black leather chair and played expertly. Swaying his hips with the melody. 

He closed his eyes and let the melody wash over him. After a few more songs he was much more relaxed. he turned slowly playing the last of the song. He spotted the dog sitting in the red armchair opposite his own.

The Lab was staring at him in wonder, completely enchanted. Sherlock let a true smile spread across his face as he dragged out the last note. 

He took a mock bow towards the dog. Sherlock saw out of the corner of his eye flashing red and blue lights. 

He felt the excitement bubbling, there has been a fourth. Lestrade came staggering up the stairs. 

Before Lestrade even opened his mouth, Sherlock asked "Where?"

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens" Lestrade replied tiredly.

"What's new about this one?"

"you know how they never leave notes?"

"Yes"Sherlock nodded

"This one did. will you come"

The Lab was watching the conversation it's head going side to side to whoever was speaking.

"who's on forensics?"

Lestrade paused before answering "It's Anderson"

Sherlock grimaced "Anderson won't work with me."

Lestrade huffed and rubbed his face with his hand.

"will you come?"

"not in the police car, ill be right behind"

"thank you" Lestrade breathed relieved.

He turned to leave and caught sight of the golden dog sitting patiently. 

Lestrade looked confused and walked out of the flat.

Meanwhile Sherlock was celebrating jumping up and down as if he were a child who'd had too much sweets. Exclaiming "brilliant and oh it's Christmas!" Sherlock pulled on his coat and scarf, closing the door behind him. 

He was halfway down the stairs when he heard a loud whine coming from the sitting room. 

He reluctantly turned back to go up the stairs and open the door. 

The Lab was sitting right in front of the door, his ears hang low and he looked pleadingly at the tall man. Sherlock rolled his eyes impatiently and held the door open for the Lab to pass. 

"Come, the Game is ON!" Sherlock exclaimed racing down the stairs with the dog hot on his heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! please leave a kudos and a comment as i love getting them and also tomorrow is my birthday :D


	7. The game is on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are not sure about Sherlock's furry companion

Sherlock was bouncing off the walls.

He fidgeted and squirmed in the black leather cab seat. The Lab looked at him curiously , his blue eyes studying him. 

Sherlock fiddled with the phone in his hand, looking over pictures of the previous scenes that Lestrade had sent him. 

Sherlock scoffed in irritation, when the thought of how quickly he could have solved this case flashed through his thoughts. 

If Lestrade had only swallowed down his pride earlier. 

His thumb froze hovering over the illuminated screen as he felt his companions' eyes boring into him. 

Sherlock sighed and returned the gaze.

" I suppose you have questions" Sherlock asked.

The lab cocked it's head , the only answer he could give.

"We are going to a crime scene" Sherlock mumbled returning his gaze to the phone. 

The Lab continued gazing at the man ,the confusion clear in his eyes. The pair spent the rest of the journey in tense silence. 

The Lab ( or John as the Lab prefers to be called) was looking out of the cab window trying to deduce where on earth the mad detective was heading. 

Sherlock on the other hand, grew more impatient as the journey stretched on. He had grown bored of looking through his phone and was now drumming a beat with his fingers against his leg whilst mumbling under his breath.

The lab (John) was steadily getting more irritated and was starting to seriously consider biting the man's hand off. 

His hearing was far better than a humans of course, but even still he could not make out all of Sherlock's mumbling.

Some of the things the man was saying was bonkers and made no sense to the Lab, I mean what does a Persian slipper with cigarettes hidden in them, have to do with the case? 

If the Lab were human he would have chuckled at the absurd sentences. 

This brought the Lab (John) into a completely different train of thought.   
.........................................................................................................................................

 

The memories of guns firing and the copper scent of blood in the air. 

The frantic yells of dying men begging God to save them. 

An even more desperate man in army fatigues with the red cross on his shoulder trying to save them, his hands deep in the other man's abdomen trying to stop the intestines from coming out. 

The medic knew it was hopeless but he tried anyway until the young soldier's heart stopped beating. 

He called time of death and peeled of the blood splattered gloves. 

He wiped his arm across his forehead, hoping to gain some form of relief from the hot Afghan sun. 

His once dark blond hair is cut short and bleached by the sun . His pale skin is now bronze but only the skin that was not covered by his shirt sleeve. 

The sand in the air making him cough and spit.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before running towards the next casualty. 

And the same routine carried on until...  
.....................................................................................................................................................

 

He was brought out of his thoughts when the cab stopped with a jolt. Sherlock ripped off his seatbelt and leapt out of cab. 

To an outsider it looked as if Sherlock completely forgot about the presence of his companion. 

But he had left the cab door open and slowed his pace so the dog could easily catch up. 

Sherlock swaggered towards the yellow police tape blocking off the scene. 

His coat flared out on either side of him, giving off the impression of a large crow. 

A woman stood next to the tape. 

Her nostrils flared when she saw the detective and his accomplice walking towards her. 

"Hello freak" she greeted Sherlock when he came to the tape. The note of dread hidden in her voice.

"I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade" he droned. 

His eyes looking around him, already trying to see what he can deduce. 

"why?" she asked ,already losing patience. 

"I was invited"

"why?" she asked again haughty

"I think he wants me to take a look" The sarcasm dripping from his words.

"well, you know what I think ,don't you?"

"Always, Sally" Sherlock replied with a thin smile. He lifted the tape and ducked underneath it. He held it up and huffed impatiently. The Lab(John) started to follow, when Sally's horror toned voice cut him off. 

"NO! You are not bringing in animal in here. It's a crime scene for Christ's sake"

"excellent deduction Sally, we are indeed at a crime scene" Sherlock   
snapped sarcastically. 

"A dog's brain is only one-tenth the size of a human brain, the part that controls smell is 40 times larger than in humans. A dog's sense of smell is about 1,000 to 10,000,000 times more sensitive than a human's. A human has about 5 million scent glands, compared to a dog, who has anywhere from 125 million to 300 million." Sherlock prattled at such a great speed.

"Although I see and observe , my transport does not let me have the luxury of that great a sense. That is why a dog will be useful."Sherlock finished his speech and nodded towards the dog to follow him again.

John( the Lab) cautiously walked under the tape to follow Sherlock.

He caught an overwhelming scent of men's deodorant coming from the gob smacked woman as he passed her. 

He also noticed that her knees were in a appalling state.

She did not try and stop them, still trying to take in all that Sherlock had said.  
Sherlock made his way confidently into the building. 

Ignoring the confused glances of the Met as they stared at the odd pair. 

Some pointing to Sherlock's bruised and battered face while others to his golden haired companion.

John kept his head down, the weight of the stares on his back. He tried to stay as close as possible to the 6ft tall man. 

The end of the giant Belstaff flapped at his snout as he was nearly walking right underneath the consulting detective. 

He grabbed on to the end of the material with his teeth making sure not to lose sight of the man again. 

If Sherlock had noticed, it didn't show. 

He was stopped by Lestrade In the corridor of the building. 

The signs of age and abandonment clear by the peeling paint coming off the wall and the many cracks running through it like a spiders web.

Relief showed on the DI's face when he saw him but his brow furrowed when he clapped eyes on John who still had Sherlock's coat in his mouth.

 

"Uhh" Lestrade pointed at the dog. Sherlock rolled his eyes and gently removed his precious coat from the dog's jaws.

"yes, Lestrade it is a dog, where is the corpse?"

"Upstairs" Lestrade answered. 

Sherlock stepped around him to climb the seemingly endless spiralling staircase. 

"Hang on!" Lestrade grabbed Sherlock's arm to stop his ascent. "You cannot bring a dog where there is a body, it might contaminate the crime scene."

"Don't worry he won't contaminate the scene and a dog's sense of smell could be useful." Sherlock reassured trying to free his arm from the iron grasp. 

"Sherlock! we have police dogs for that sort of thing, that are trained on how to act around corpses. I can't risk this case on the chance that this dog can mess up the evidence." Lestrade told him firmly.

"Lestrade I can assure you that this dog will not harm your evidence, he will stay at my side and keep out of the way. If you cannot trust me on that, I will gladly go home and take up a private case. But your not going to do that."Sherlock held his piercing gaze to the DI's to show how serious he was.

Lestrade stood his ground and folded his arms "Oh really"

"Yes, because you need me"

Lestrade seemed to deflate at these words knowing that they speak the truth.

"Yes I do, God help me" Lestrade climbed the stairs.

Sherlock's chest puffed out at his victory and followed. 

John swiftly behind him, he was astonished at the trust the detective had in him and a deep warm sensation spread from his chest.

Sherlock was equally surprised by his behaviour.   
But he locked it into his mind palace. 

He had to focus on the case. 

he knew this one was going to be good, he could feel the tingling excitement thrumming through him as he climbed the steps. 

John's nose bumping into the back of his leg from time to time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I'm so sorry about the wait. I might write more flashbacks and don't worry John's situation will be clear in the future. I had a picture of John in his army fatigues from the Sherlock convention but it won't let me put it up, sorry :( . Please kudos, leave a comment or bookmark.


	8. Vatican Cameos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The study in pink begins but it isn't exactly how we remember it.

The trio walked into the room where the corpse lay. 

Lestrade walked in with a hint of fatigue in his stride from sleepless nights and stress filled days. It was amazing that he still had all his hair. 

Sherlock came in with a hint of impatience and a slight spring to his step, his mind already focused on the task ahead.

John walked in wearily, trying not to leave dog hairs on the already filthy floor. Despite Sherlock's assurance, John had owned a dog named Gladstone in college and knew from experience that dog hairs get every where and he did not want to be the reason that he and Sherlock get kicked off this case. 

He hasn't known the man very long but it's obvious that Sherlock's work is very important to him. The mad genius looked ten times happier with a gleam in his eye when the puzzle was presented to him. 

And of course to make matters worse he was a Labrador , a big dog with a big coat. 

SHE had been spot on when she turned him into a Lab, even John had to admit it reflected his personality well.

A Labrador is known for it's friendliness and care towards humans but just like John underneath the cuddly exterior lies an animal who would not hesitate to kill someone for the people he cares about.

John is an exception, an army doctor.

The power to heal and kill. 

Yes, he had seen a lot of violence but he still froze in the doorway , when is eyes landed on the dead woman. 

All of the room was replaced with a seemingly endless desert. Bullets kicking up the sand as they pelt into the grainy landscape. 

Crimson splatters contrast to the white bleached sand. 

And just like that he was back in the box room , staring blankly at Sherlock's back who was crouching beside the dead body. 

John instinctively whined and shook his head trying to get rid of the awful image. He trotted over to Lestrade and sat beside him. 

John notices something he did not see when he first entered the room. The letter R A C H E are scrapped into the floor right beside the dead woman's hand suggesting that she was the one to write it.

The two watched Sherlock flounce around the body. He removed a gold ring from the dead woman's finger and held it up to the light coming from the dawning sky. 

He placed the ring back on her finger and continued searching through her coat pockets until he came across a white umbrella. 

Again he replaced the umbrella from where he found it and sat back on his heels satisfied with his findings. 

John seeing that Sherlock was finished his examination walked to stand beside him. John sat down and studied the body for himself and did a brief medical examination in his head. 

He concluded that she was indeed one of the suicide victims. 

Even from his distance it was obvious that the woman had been poisoned and she had chocked on her own vomit. 

He could smell it but there is no smell of alcohol. 

Happy with his ability to preform a medical exam in his state he waited patiently for Sherlock's opinion. 

"Got Anything?" Lestrade asks.

"Not much" Sherlock replies, he stands and grabs his phone from his pocket, tapping away at it.

"She's German. 'Rache': it's German for 'revenge'. Anderson says as he watches from the doorway "She could be trying to tell us something ..."

While he was speaking ,Sherlock walks towards the door and closes it in Anderson's face saying "Yes, thank you for your input."

John jumps when the door is banged shut and gives Sherlock and irritated glare when he realises he is the cause.

"So she's German?" Lestrade asks.

"Of course she's not. She's from out of town, though. Intended to stay in London for one night......... before returning home to Cardiff." Sherlock answers. "So far so obvious"

"Obvious" Lestrade casts him a confused look.

"Victim is in her late thirties. Professional person, going by her clothes; I'm guessing something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. It's obvious from the size of her suitcase."

"Suitcase?"

"Suitcase, yes. She's been married at least ten years, but not happily. She's had a string of lovers but none of them knew she was married. "

"Oh, for God's sake, if you're just making this up!"Lestrade exclaims frustrated. 

"Her wedding ring. Ten years old at least. The rest of her jewellery has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside – that means it's regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It's not for work; look at her nails. She doesn't work with her hands, so what or rather who does she remove her rings for? Clearly not one lover; she'd never sustain the fiction of being single over that amount of time, so more likely a string of them. Simple." Sherlock explains.

Of course , that's why he was looking at her ring John thinks to himself. That's brilliant! John let out a soft bark of excitement to try and praise Sherlock.

Sherlock turns to give him an odd look before turning back to the body, trying to hide the small smile gracing his lips.

"Cardiff?" Lestrade asks still lost.

"It's obvious, isn't it?"

It's not obvious to me John grumbles to himself.

"Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring. " Sherlock states innocently.

"Her coat: it's slightly damp. She's been in heavy rain in the last few hours. No rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp, too. She's turned it up against the wind. She's got an umbrella in her left-hand pocket but it's dry and unused: not just wind, strong wind – too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, so she must have come a decent distance but she can't have travelled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn't dried. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time?"

Sherlock Shows his phone to Lestrade with a page for the weather forecast for Cardiff.

"Cardiff" Sherlock finishes.

 

"Why d'you keep saying suitcase?"

"Yes, where is it? She must have had a phone or an organiser. Find out who Rachel is." Sherlock says spinning around to search the room a second time.

"She was writing 'Rachel'?"

" No, she was leaving an angry note in German!" Sherlock snaps sarcastically "Of course she was writing Rachel; no other word it can be. Question is: why did she wait until she was dying to write it?"

"How d'you know she had a suitcase?" 

Sherlock points to the woman's legs. " Back of the right leg: tiny splash marks on the heel and calf, not present on the left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. Don't get that splash pattern any other way. Smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size, woman this clothes-conscious: could only be an overnight bag, so we know she was staying one night."

"Now, where is it? What have you done with it?" Sherlock kneels to take a closer look at the back of her legs.

"There wasn't a case. There was never any suitcase."

Sherlock eyes widened as he looked up at Lestrade before running down the stairs yelling at the other police officers wondering if they had seen a suitcase.

John and Lestrade follow him but stop on the landing.

"Sherlock, there was no case!" Lestrade yells down at him.

"But they take the poison themselves; they chew, swallow the pills themselves. There are clear signs. Even you lot couldn't miss them." Sherlock mimics swallowing the pills and continues his descent down the stairs. 

 

"Right, yeah, thanks! And ...?"

"It's murder, all of them. I don't know how, but they're not suicides, they're killings – serial killings. " Sherlock holds his hands up in delight. " We've got ourselves a serial killer. I love those. There's always something to look forward to."

"Why are you saying that?"

"Her case! Come on, where is her case? Did she eat it?! Someone else was here, and they took her case." Sherlock paused and said more quietly. "So the killer must have driven her here; forgot the case was in the car."

Sherlock's stops and his face lightens up "OH!"

"What is it, what?" Lestrade presses urgently.

"Serial killers are always hard. You have to wait for them to make a mistake." Sherlock mulled to himself.

"We can't just wait!"

"Oh, we're done waiting!Look at her, really look! Houston, we have a mistake. Get on to Cardiff: find out who Jennifer Wilson's family and friends were. Find Rachel!" Sherlock makes it to the bottom of the stairs and starts to leave.

"Of course, yeah – but what mistake?!" Lestrade yells after him.

Sherlock came flying back in with the eagerness of a child and yells back " PINK!" before disappearing. 

Lestrade and John remain on the landing above baffled. Lestrade turns to head back into the room followed by Anderson and his team.

John limps down the stairs slowly , cursing his shoulder all the way down. 

John walks out of the building and finds to his dismay that Sherlock was gone. 

But after some searching he triumphantly finds a scent trial belonging to the consulting detective. 

The only occasion he was glad he was a dog so he was able to follow him, if he were still human he wouldn't have been able to find him. 

As he was following the trial he reflected on the case so far and marvelled at Sherlock's deductive powers. 

Though John was certain he was spot on about his findings, he had a feeling that Sherlock had missed something. 

Maybe it was because he was human that he couldn't smell it but John could. 

John hasn't smelt anything like that in years, not since he was a child and he was still racking his brain to find the source of the strange odour. 

Sherlock was also thinking of the case while he searched another skip for the pink suitcase.

He had a strange feeling that there was something off about the body.

He was right with his deductions but he couldn't help noticing that her clothes looked almost brand new which was odd because of the care of the outfit would suggest it was her best for wearing to work ,but it felt a little too perfect to Sherlock. 

He shoved this thoughts for later study and continued searching for the suitcase. 

The sound of "pitter patter" feet behind him showed that the dog had found him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update, i hope you enjoy please kudos or comment or dare i even suggest bookmark. Thank you for reading XD feedback spurs me on


	9. A Sad Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we learn about John's fears

Daily Star:Headlines

Today is a truly sad day for the world. Yesterday morning at 9:00 am the body of Audrey Wood was found in her home. It is believed that she had died peacefully in her sleep in the early morning hours.Audrey at age 98 was the last known sorceress recorded and with the news of her death there have been mixed views. Some are delighted at the news believing that magic was unnatural and evil whilst others will be deeply saddened with memories of loved ones sharing this incredible ability. Of course there are different types of magic and some even believe that all humans possessed this gift at one time. Scientists had been hoping to gain answers into why this ability is dying out but now it seems almost impossible since Audrey's death. Our thoughts go to Audrey's family and friends. In other news Aston villa are beating Manchester united 5-1 in..........

 

The deary voice of the reporter drifted through the open apartment window.

John losing interest in the report lay his head down on his paws. 

He was mulling over the news story, gazing blankly at the skip that the mad detective was currently searching through.

The detective's head bobbed up and down from view. He'd disappear for ages before violently throwing something out of the skip and mumbling angrily. 

John was thinking about his grandmother, who was the only person he knew who possessed magic and thought about the only time he saw her using it.

..........................................................................................................................................................................................

"Pew Pew" John imitated the sounds of a gun firing, aiming his stick at his enemy's(friend's) back. 

His enemy(friend) turns his torso and lobs a snowball in the direction of John's army(team) and shouts "Grenade". 

"SHELTER! YOU HAVE TO FIND SHELTER!" John yells to his team pointing at the squashed snowball.

The boys scatter trying to find shelter while the boy who had thrown the snowball counts slowly to ten signalling when the grenade is going off.

John started climbing a large oak tree in his garden and sat on the highest branch. He watched from his vantage point to make sure his team had all gotten shelter. 

"9" the enemy had gotten too. And John saw to his horror that one of his soldiers hasn't found any shelter. 

He leans forward instinctively and tries to warn him by waving his arms and pointed to an unoccupied bush that he could hide in. 

"10" the enemy cries triumphantly seeing one of his prey out in the open.

"JOSH!" John warns again leaning forward a tiny bit more. 

Before he knew it his world was turned upside down and he landed on the cold ground with a loud crack. 

He blacked out for a couple of seconds than opened his eyes, the colours of the world mashing together and the shrill ringing in his ears.

When he could see clearly he saw eleven anxious faces staring down at him. 

And that is when the pain hit. 

Burning pain was scorching his right arm and his chest making it hard to breath. 

He carefully turned his head noticing for the first time the wetness on the back of his neck.

He almost retched when he looked at the mangled mess that was his arm with crimson liquid oozing out.

And what's that sticking out, is t-t-hat BONE! Tears fell from his eyes and gut wrenching sobs tore from his chest. 

The other boys panicked and ran as fast as they could into the house to get help.

 

Mrs.Watson and her Mother were having their usual catch up chat with tea and biscuits. When the boys came pouring in, all talking over each other to help explain what happened.

"QUIET!"Mrs.Watson shouted, once everyone had quieted she began again "Now will one of you will tell me what happened."

Greg the eldest started speaking " We're playing soldiers and bad guys and Dan threw a grenade so we had to find shelter and John wen' up in the tree and he fell." with these last words he took Mrs.Watson's arm and led her to where John lay.

Mrs.Watson bent down to try and console her son and gently lifting him up. 

He whimpered and clutched at her blouse with his good hand as she carried him inside. 

John's grandmother had kindly asked the other boys to leave, leaving the house scarily quiet. 

Mrs. Watson gently lay him on his bed before going to the phone in the hall and looking through her phone book to find the number for the local doctors. 

John's grandmother knelt beside the bed smiling kindly down at the little boy who had tears running down his face. 

She than as gently as a feather put her hand on his forehead and the other on his chest. She took a deep breath and started mumbling strange words that John did not understand. 

Her eyes changed from their usual soft blue to a strong gold with flecks of blue and green hidden in them. 

John's eyes widened in horror as he looked down at himself and it was like he was translucent.

He could see through his clothes and skin and could see all his organs and bones. He could even see his heart change from it's normal slow heartbeat to something much quicker. 

And just like that it was gone and his grandmother's eyes turned back to blue. He watched as his grandmother than joined his mother in the hall. 

His mother had dialled the number and was waiting for someone to answer when his grandmother snatches it from her hand and ended the call.

"Mum what are you doing?" Mrs.Watson asked angrily.

John's grandmother ignored her question.

"John has a broken radius and a broken scapula and a slight concussion, nothing that I am not able to fix" She said. John didn't realise till much later it meant a broken arm and collarbone.

"Oh Mum you didn't" Mrs.Watson pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration a habit that John picked up later in life "You know your not supposed to use magic i-t-ts wrong and unnatural"She said flustered.

"It may be 'unnatural' but it will save a few bob that you and I both know, that you haven't got to pay the doctor." John's grandmother replied icily standing her ground. She was stubborn a bit like John now.

The two had a silent staring competition before Mrs.Watson gave up and nodded her head to show she would let her mum do it. A girl peered in from around the corner wondering what all the drama was all about.

"Oh Harriet" John's grandmother said spotting the girl " Your brother's been injured and I need you to get some supplies for me. I need a bowl of warm water, bandages or strips of cloth and the bottle of whiskey you keep hidden underneath your bed."

The girl blushed bright red and hurried away to do as she was asked before her mother could comment. 

She came back in no time and avoided her mother's disapproving glare as she handed the bottle of whiskey to her grandmother. 

The trio went into John's room where he had heard the whole conversation and was secretly excited for when his mum was going to give out stink to Harry. 

His grandmother had resumed her kneeling positioned beside the bed and asked Mrs.Watson to hold John down as it would hurt but she needed him to keep still. 

She than unscrewed the whiskey bottle and poured it into the gaping wounds ignoring John's blood curdling screams.

She than covered her hands in the amber liquid and shoved the fragment of bone in to where it was supposed to go with a 'pop'. 

And just like before she lay her hands on John's forehead and chest and murmured some nonsense. John watched mystified as he felt his bones knit back together and the wounds closing up leaving only a pink mark in it's wake. 

His breathing became much easier and his pounding headache had disappeared. His grandmother than cleaned off the dried blood and made a make shift sling for his arm, just in case. 

"Thank you" he murmured his eyes fluttering closed, feeling sleepy. She wiped off the left over tears on his face and kissed his forehead. The next day he was fully healed and was able to fully enjoy his mother finally giving out to Harry.

............................................................................................................................................................................................

It was the only time he saw her using magic. He had a great respect for magic before he went to Afghanistan and saw the evil and the horror it could do. And it still filled him with fear and dread, the thought of someone harbouring such a great power and using it for their own gain. 

John was so lost in his thoughts that he did not notice the cry of triumph come from the skip, and out popped a grinning consulting detective with a suitcase in his hand the most horrible shade of pink imaginable.

John realised with the last recorded sorceress dying, it will be almost impossible finding someone else with magic.

So who was going to turn him back? he thought with sadness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading and please kudos or comment to give me feedback it really helps


	10. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tells Sherlock his discovery...............

John's paw slid off the seat nearly making him tumble to the floor as the police car swerved around a corner. Lestrade was driving like a madman, trying to keep one eye on the laptop that was currently tracking the dead woman's cell phone and the road. 

John's stomach was full of butterflies, afraid of what they will find when they have reached their destination. 

Of course the source of John's worrying was the cause of this whole mess. It seems that the idiotic genius decided it was a good idea to flounce of with a serial killer!

And the sad thing was John was not surprised by his actions at all.

John did not expect this was how he would spend his night, chasing after a lunatic and a murderer. 

After Sherlock had found the case, they had returned to Baker street where Sherlock examined the pink suitcase expertly before flopping of the couch and plastering nicotine patches on his arm. 

Than the man was shouting Ms.Hudson's name and asking if he could borrow her phone?

Of course the old woman did not hear and Sherlock was too lazy to get the phone himself, so John being John went to fetch the phone and place it in Sherlock's waiting hand. 

He huffed a little in annoyance and ignored the odd look Sherlock had giving him. 

Than Sherlock explained to the only living thing around, that the phone was not in the suitcase so the murderer must have it,he then tested his theory which of course proved right. 

After that they chased after a cab which Sherlock had thought to be the invisible car but turned out to be a fruitful chase as the passenger was a very confused American tourist. 

The pair than returned to Baker street, coming down from the high that the adrenalin brought.

Soon after they had found most of the Met preforming a drug's bust to Sherlock displeasure. John was shocked at the revelation that Sherlock was an addict. 

Sherlock of course then figured out that the woman had planted her phone on the murderer and had scrapped her e-mails password "Rachel" on the floor in order for the police to track her phone. 

With that the tracker said that the phone was at Baker street which made no sense to either John or Sherlock as the murderer had called back proven that he had possession of the phone. 

John noticed that Sherlock was acting oddly saying that he needed some air and watched from that window as the detective disappeared in the waiting cab.

Lestrade had refreshed the search and started organizing his team to leave the flat ignoring the pinging sound that the tracker was making. 

John looked up at the laptop curiously and saw with confusion that the dot was on the move. 

Just like that the puzzle came together in his mind and he was 100% sure that Sherlock had just ridden off with the killer. 

John reached up and snatched the laptop from the table holding it carefully in his jaws.

He desperately looked around the flat hoping a police officer was around. 

He ran out of the flat , relief spread through his chest when he saw Lestrade still leaning against his car talking on the phone.

John barked furiously trying to get the man's attention, shoving the laptop in his hands.

Lestarde took the laptop with annoyance and glanced at the screen. 

He froze also coming to the same conclusion as John, he looked at the Labrador shocked at it's intelligence. But he shouldn't be ,this was Sherlock Holmes' dog after all. 

"I'll call you back love, Something's come up" Lestrade hurriedly hung up the phone before praising the dog with a "good lad" and climbed into his car. Deciding to bring John with him, he was sure the dog would come as a help. 

John let his mind wander impatient to get there. When it hit him ,just like when your looking for a name and you can't remember until you aren't thinking about it. 

The smell that surrounded the room where Jennifer Wilson's body was found, he knew he had smelt it before. 

When his grandmother had healed him all those years ago it was the same floral smell. It means that magic was performed in that room and judging by the strong stench the woman would be the source of the magic. 

If it was the murderer the smell would have been less potent almost unnoticeable even to John who has the nose of a canine. 

The car came to a 'screeching' halt in front of two tall buildings standing side by side. Lestrade hesitated a moment before running into the building on the right, John hot on his heels. 

They both started searching the building, Lestrade calling Sherlock's name. They went into the last room and saw to their horror that Sherlock was in the building opposite their's. 

Sherlock's back was to them and they could see an older man with them. Lestrade raised his gun and aimed it at the other man encase he did anything to hurt Sherlock, at his angle he couldn't see that Sherlock was slowly lifting a white pill to his lips but John could. 

John without thinking bit Lestrade's right arm where he was holding the gun making sure not to break the skin.

Lestrade's finger tensed around the trigger instinctively making the gun fire, thank god it found it's mark. 

Lestrade watched horrified as Sherlock whirled around to see who the shooter was and was shocked to find it's owner. Lestrade stood for a few more seconds and ran out of the building to join Sherlock relieved to hear the approaching sounds of back up. 

After that whole fiasco, John luckily was allowed to return home with the consulting detective.

The pair were both exhausted and wanted to do nothing more but sleep. 

But he couldn't just yet. 

Sherlock flung his coat on the back of his chair and flopped into it, looking lazily around. 

John watched him trying to come up with some brilliant way for him to tell the detective what he had found at the crime scene. 

He was lying on the floor beside Sherlock's chair trying to come up with anything when his eyes landed on the laptop that Sherlock had taken back with him from Lestrade.

An idea started cooking. He glanced over at Sherlock who had both his eye's closed and his hands steepled underneath his chin.

John got up and grabbed the laptop from the kitchen table also noticing that his limp was gone. 

He placed the laptop on the ground and with some trouble managed to lift the lid with his snout. Relieved he found that an empty document of 'Word" was open and with the lightest of touches he used the tip of his nose to move the cursor and click on the link. 

He picked up the laptop again leaving it half open and placed it carefully on Sherlock's knees. 

He waited for Sherlock to respond to the weight but the detective didn't even stir. 

So John started barking as loud as he could half standing half climbing on the chair. 

Sherlock glared at the dog irritated before glancing down at the laptop disinterested. Sherlock was starting to push the laptop away when that dog's paw stopped him ,John nearly completely on Sherlock's lap used his nose once more to type which proved quite tricky.

 

SHRLCK PINK LDY HAD MAGIC THEEEE SMELL

 

Sherlock looked wide eyed at the dog who was looking hopefully at him. Sherlock opened his mouth to start speaking before closing it again narrowing his eyes at the dog. John was confused, did Sherlock not understand what he was trying to say? he made extra careful that he spelled the word'Magic' correct. 

"How-w did you do that?? what are you?" Sherlock asked still staring at the golden haired Labrador , he was obviously intrigued. 

Oh! of course he thinks I'm just an ordinary dog, well we'll have to fix that John thought before resuming his position over the keyboard.

 

IM HUMAN, JHN WATSN

 

"Um ok than why are you a canine?" Sherlock asked looking sceptical. His dark eyebrows going further and further up his forehead.

John began typing another word but didn't have to as Sherlock breathed "of course......magic". 

John jumped to the floor and faced Sherlock trying to see his reaction. Sherlock continued staring at him for ages not saying anything just studying. 

And John thought as twenty minutes went by and the detective hadn't moved an inch that it was getting a bit scary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thanks for reading and i hoped you enjoyed. Sherlock found out, yeah! please kudos or comment i love getting those, they keep me writing.


	11. Competition

Hey lads! Sorry this isn't a chapter. I feel bad for the lack of proper pictures for this fic so i decided to do a fanart. But sadly it went horribly wrong...... and i was wondering if you creative people would like to help me by drawing some? I know this sounds odd but i'm honestly curious to see what you come up with :) this fic is also featured on wattpad and i will be also asking them so let the battle of the websites commence!! Lol just messing :) but it really would help me out and perhaps one day I'll post my awful drawing?

Thanks for reading

-Leah


	12. Sherlock's experiments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uh oh Sherlock has some ideas

Sherlock stared at John, as John stared at Sherlock. 

The minutes trickled by slowly. Sherlock's mind was a whirl of new ideas and questions whizzed through his mind. 

Sherlock never believed in magic, why should he. It is a fantasy that the dull-deary-simpletons at the time conjured to stimulate their excitement.

But what is the explanation of the canine's intelligence if not magic? 

Of course perhaps this one is a one in million. The theory is possible the proof of that is Sherlock himself with his insight on Deduction.

Sherlock felt his brain kick start with the idea of a new puzzle. He'll have to run blood analysis and perhaps a brain biopsy! He will also need to run a background on the man that this dog 'claims' to be. 

What was his name again? Jim Watson.... no um...Jack Watson?

Of course if this dog is correct ,than he is intelligent enough to know what experiments Sherlock wants to perform. And Sherlock can't have that, It would ruin the whole study.

John watched the detective's face anxiously trying to gauge any reaction. But all he got was a silent Sherlock for the past hour and the man hadn't blinked in ages! 

Than slowly he returned to the real world by blinking rapidly and stretching his arms out making his joints 'pop'. 

John wasn't sure how Sherlock would react to the news, he was started to regret telling him the truth. He should have waiting a tad longer before springing this information on the detective or not tell him at all! But if he had done that Sherlock wouldn't be able to help John find a sorcerer to change him back. 

Sherlock gazed lazily at him for a few moments a sly smile on his lips. 

John knows how eccentric Sherlock is and is positive that Sherlock wouldn't send him anywhere but that doesn't stop the possibility of the mad detective experimenting on him.

John watched wearily as Sherlock leaned forward in his chair reaching out towards John's head. John closed his eyes knowing that the detective his probably going to yank out his hair or knock him out or something. 

John pulled away in shock as he felt Sherlock scratch behind his ear softly. 

John gazed up at him in suspicion but Sherlock hadn't reacted to John's movement his arm still outstretched. John slowly nudged his head against Sherlock's open palm and felt him restart the scratching. Oh god! that feels amazing! 

John whined when he felt Sherlock's fingers stop in the rhythm he had been scratching. Sherlock chuckled moving on to John's other ear than to his neck and back.

John was so relaxed he fell asleep with his head on Sherlock's foot. 

Sherlock gazed at the slumbering dog for a few moments before getting up and moving into the kitchen, where all of his equipment was sprawled on the kitchen table. 

He sat on a stool in front of his microscope, pulling a fresh slide towards him. Keeping one of his slender hands in a tight fist. 

When everything was prepared he opened his fist revealing a ball of dog hair that he had gotten from John's whilst Sherlock had stroked him. 

The scratching proved two things. 

One, that John was nervous of him. A normal reaction after a piece of evidence is revealed. But Sherlock knew that John wasn't nervous of just his reaction but had come to the conclusion that Sherlock would hurt him. Sherlock will have to drive that fear away or else his experiment is botched( and also he doesn't want the dog to fear him but of course Sherlock would never admit it to himself). 

Two, that once John was comfortable and unaware of what Sherlock was doing it was easy to get the sample. Sherlock separated the sample into two parts one on the slide and the other in a Petri dish.

.................................................................................. ............................................................

Hours later, Sherlock looked up at the clock hanging above the door of the kitchen. His eyelids dropped slightly and he saw to his surprise that it was a quarter past five in the morning. 

Cursing his transport, Sherlock eased himself stiffly off the stool. Letting his legs take over automatically , he headed towards his bedroom his eyes closed. Like a zombie Sherlock walked slowly, fatigue rolling off him. 

'Thud ' Sherlock's eyes snapped open in surprise , realising he had walked face first into his bedroom door.

Wait what? His bedroom door is closed ....... Sherlock never closes his door! someone's been in there. 

Sherlock feeling wide awake, his heart picking up the pace. Sherlock scanned the door frame and the carpet trying to find any clues to show who has been in his room. 

Sherlock growls softly underneath his breath coming up with nothing except that the intruder is 6'5" and takes long strides. 

Could it be his fan? From what the cabbie had been saying this 'Moriarty' had been stalking him online. No, it couldn't be him.

Sherlock took a deep breath and pushed the door open. 

A quick scan told him that he was alone and the only thing out of place in the room was a thick manilla folder on his bed. 

Sherlock strolled towards the bed and picked up the folder. He gazed at the material and took a cautious sniff. The folder was made out of stiff cardboard used in office work but this type isn't cheap when bought in bulk so a business with a lot of money. The smell of men's cologne lingered on it, 'Ambre Topkapi' one of the most expensive colognes so the person is wealthy and powerful. There was only one person Sherlock knew of that wears this particular brand and also cake crumbs on the file tells Sherlock all he needed to know. 

Sherlock opened the file and saw a photo of a dirty blonde haired man with deep blue eyes staring back at him. The man was in his mid thirties going by the frown lines . Sherlock had already guessed this was John Watson's personal file before reading the name. Sherlock quickly read through the simple information, hair colour, weight, height and so on. Sherlock was half way through the school records when he heard a 'bing' of a phone.

He lay the file on the bed and made his way into the sitting room where his phone lay on the small wooden coffee table.

A new text lighted the home screen.

Tut tut getting slow little brother. I would have thought that you'd have found that file long before now -MH

You got cake on my file, how's the diet-SH

Fine, a small thank you wouldn't go amiss-MH

Piss off-SH

Sherlock locked the phone and gazed thoughtfully at the still slumbering Labrador. He sighed and picked up the discarded laptop off the floor before heading towards his room. He read through the whole night, finding more information online as he stumbled onto a site called'The personal blog of John H Watson.

The sun was shining through his curtains,Sherlock still staring at his laptop heard the pitter patter sound of small feet signalling that his companion was awake. Sherlock listened for a while hearing nothing but silence.

A loud 'BANG!' broke the peace and Sherlock leapt out of bed as fast as he could.

Sherlock ran into the kitchen and stopped in his tracks at what he saw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading hope you enjoyed sorry about the wait. I'm so excited for future chapters , ideas already circling my brain. And i did do a fanart for this just need to figure out how to put it on this.,... any suggestions?and please kudos or comment i love getting them and they also give me a feel about what you's think of this little fic so far


	13. Of all things to happen on a Saturday morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of fluff with an air of something worrisome developing in the small flat.

John cracked his sore eyes open and let out a shrill yawn. He got to his feet and tries his best to work out the stiffness in his joints, from his uncomfortable position on the floor. 

   A shot of panic ran through him as he looked around the sitting room , not seeing Sherlock anywhere. John let out a soft whine and was about to try and track the mad detectives scent. 

Before he could start however the sound of someone shifting on a bed and a low baritone sigh came from one of the bedrooms. Making its way easily to John's sensitive ears. John knowing now where that idiot was can now focus on a much important matter. 

Breakfast. 

John trotted into the kitchen hoping to find something edible (he will pretend not to see the body parts in close proximity to said food). He nosed his way into the cupboards close to the floor but found nothing. John knew this was going to be a terrible idea but he had to be feed somehow. 

He carefully jumped onto the empty stool and then onto the cluttered kitchen table. He avoided the laboratory equipment carefully, he made his way to the edge of the table, pushing away objects as he did. He was now facing the pair of cupboards over the sink. As a Labrador he was quite a big dog so John used this to his advantage. He balanced on his hide legs and stretched out to get a grip of the Handel of the cupboard with his teeth. He opened it smoothly and soon John found himself eye to eye with a packet of Hobnobs. A great deal of pride in himself he reached for them. 

And in that moment he knew he made one of the worst mistakes ever. 

As the table underneath him tipped over under his weight. What happened next could only be described as something out of a horror show. 

John fell to the floor as well as the state of the art microscope, beakers filled with strange liquids of all colours and bodily fluids. The jar of eyes that Sherlock had removed earlier from the microwave as well as Petri dishes of all sorts of strange mold and bacteria. John was covered in sticky liquid and broken glass. The stench of the different experiments was nauseating and John threw up. 

The sick mixing into the already awful concoction of liquids. John dizzily heard the sound of running feet coming his way and a quick glance up showed the consulting detective in all his glory of bed hair and the very rare expression of panic written on his face. 

He glanced around at the destroyed kitchen and the guilty Labrador lying in the heap of glass and other substances. Sherlock stood frozen in the doorway his expression changed slowly into one of thunder. John stared wide eyed as Sherlock's face darkened and dark blue almost black like smoke curled around him. 

"Yup I'm definitely high off these fumes and I'm pretty sure he is  
Going to kill me" John thought to himself. 

Watching the strange smoke curl around Sherlock becoming bigger and bigger and a sweet smell started.....a familiar smell. 

Just at that moment Ms. Hudson came scurrying into the flat , coming to investigate the noise. She came to the kitchen and gasped at the state of it. Totally oblivious to the danger tinted smoke covering the man beside her. 

John watched her, "Can she really not see it? Yup I'm probably as high as a kite." 

Ms Hudson caught the expression on Sherlock's face and tutted disapprovingly.

"What are you standing there for? Go get the poor thing out of that mess that your vile hobbies has made and clean him up and I'll start cleaning here." Sherlock made no movement his ,eyes still staring into the kitchen. Ms. Hudson gave him a light slap on the shoulder and tutted again .

" Fine then I'll clean him up, just put him in the bath for me and you can start with the kitchen." She said her tone was not one to be messed with. Sherlock cast her an annoyed glare before moving obediently into the kitchen. 

John closed his eyes expecting a ruff grab by the scruff of the neck and dragged into the bathroom. But all he felt was cautious arms that lifted him easily , avoiding the nasty cuts the broken glass had given him and placed him into the bath. 

John was beyond confused by this and hoped that Sherlock had forgiven him. 

He wanted to be sure. 

He whined softly stoping Sherlock from leaving but instead of concerned eyes John was meet with angry ones. Sherlock said nothing and walked out. John felt guilt crushing his stomach his hunger forgotten all together. 

He has only spent a small amount of time with Sherlock and he could already see how much Sherlock loved his experiments and John of course had to royally fuck it up. Angry with himself, John almost didn't notice Ms. Hudson coming into the bathroom wearing gloves and having a medical kit in her hand. 

She careful took out the pieces of glass still embedded into his skin and washed his fur vigorously before applying disinfectant and bandages. After he was done he stepped out of the bath and wearily made his way to Sherlock's sitting room. 

He kept his eyes to the ground and his ears down. He saw the man in question sitting in his chair, wearing his standard suit with most of the mess of the kitchen dealt with. 

Ms.Hudson crept around John and like the superwoman she is started scrubbing the kitchen floor spotless. John made his way over to the man sitting. Sherlock completely ignored him. John rubbed his head against Sherlock's knee and whined hoping for some reaction and to convey how sorry he felt. 

Sherlock stood up abruptly and walked to his room, closing the door behind him with a menacing thud. 

John got the message loud and clear.  

John trudged his way over to the door leading to Sherlock's room , lying in front of it. Trying to figure out some way to make things better. 

Ms.Hudson watched the Labrador fondly , she was finally happy that Sherlock found something that loved him as much as she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so sorry for this really late update but at least it's here 


End file.
